


Wake Up Call  (Dirty Little Secrets Remix)

by inksheddings



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim doesn't go out of his way to get hurt.  But he couldn't have predicted that one little Knock Knock joke could get so out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Call  (Dirty Little Secrets Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saekhwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Let Me Sleep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20310) by [lady_krysis (saekhwa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis). 



> Thanks to the ever-fantastic whymzycal for her thoroughness and encouragement. BEST BETA EVER. 
> 
> Thanks to MidniteMarauder for help with the painful task of picking a title.
> 
> And, of course, thanks, lady_krysis, for the chance to have such fun remixing. I hope you like what I did with your drabble.

** Wake Up Call (Dirty Little Secrets Remix) **

 

No matter what Bones might say, Jim never goes out of his way to get hurt. Not since entering Starfleet, at least. He's had his share of fights. He's had a few football injuries. He even fell down a flight of stairs when another cadet, late for class, sent him tumbling. But Jim has never decided to go out for an evening and then said to himself on the way out the door, "Self, do I want a few bruises tonight or should I go for full scale maiming?" Shit just happens to Jim.

Now that he has Bones looking out for him, Jim doesn't worry quite so much about the occasional injury. Not that he worried that much before, but now he knows he'll heal all the quicker for having a doctor hanging around regularly. Okay, Bones is a little harsh with the hypospray but there is an upside: the faster Jim heals, the faster he and Bones can have sex. They have plenty of sex when Jim's not recovering from a recent injury, but there's something more intense about Bones' reactions when Jim has just finished healing. He's not more careful or anything annoying like that. And Jim's not complaining, nosiree! He likes it when Bones shoves him down onto his knees and grips his hair like he wants to pull it out at the roots, so Jim doesn't question his good luck. He just hopes it holds out.

*****

It's a pretty slow night at The Bitter End, one of Jim and Bones' usual Saturday night haunts. They'd found the place shortly after arriving at the Academy. Jim still had a few cuts and bruises, and Bones still smelled like a liquor cabinet. When they'd seen the name of the place in bright, flashing neon, they'd smiled at each other and walked right on in. Sometimes, Jim thinks that was the true start to their friendship, rather than their first meeting on the shuttle.

"No, no, no, no, no, Bones, no. I promise this is a good one. A _good_ one."

Bones rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his whiskey, signaling their waitress for another. "There's no such thing as a good one, Jim."

Jim pouts. He gives that pout everything he has. Bones will give in, not because he feels any sliver of sympathy but because he hates Jim's pouts more than working the Academy clinic on Halloween.

"Fine, idiot child. Go on then."

Ha! 

Jim exchanges the pout for the most serious expression he can muster after four beers. 

"Knock knock."

"Oh, god."

"Knock knock, Bones."

"Who's there?"

"Repeat."

"Repeat who?"

"Who! Who! Who!" Jim is waving his arms around as he's shouting in Bones' face. It's as close an approximation to owl-like behavior as he can manage, but maybe he's just a little too enthusiastic. He feels his right hand connect with someone's face and hears a number of colorful words coming from just slightly behind. 

Jim stands up and turns around. Not only did he smack someone, but the guy spilled his beer all over the front of his button-down shirt. And he looks pissed.

"Hey, man," Jim holds his hands up placatingly, "I'm sorry. I was just joking around—"

"You think you're funny, asshole?" the guy yells and takes a step closer. 

It's now obvious to Jim that Mr. Button-down is wasted as well as pissed. He hears Bones slide his own chair back to stand next to him. "No, I mean I was joking with my—"

Things get out of hand after that. 

Next thing Jim hears is Bones' voice, telling him to wake his ass up. Next thing Jim feels is Bones' hand, slapping the shit out of him. Jesus, is he late for class? But Jim's never late for class, so why is Bones waking him up so fucking violently?

"Hey, quit it," Jim mumbles. "Gonna sleep a little longer."

"If that Neanderthal hadn't been quite so drunk when he punched you, I'm sure you'd still be sleeping like an overgrown baby. Now sit up."

"Huh? Ow!" Hyposprays do not bother Jim. Bones plunging them forcefully into his neck? Never a turn-on. But it gets Jim to sit up fast. When he opens his eyes, he finds himself looking right at Bones, who is kneeling on the floor next to him. Several others stand around watching, but there's no sign of Mr. Button-down. That's perfectly fine by Jim.

"You all right?" Bones asks, and hell if he doesn't sound sincere.

"What, you're not pissed at me for getting punched?" Jim asks. It takes a few blinks before his vision clears. He reaches out toward Bones, who helps him stand up. The lookie-loos start drifting away.

"No, Jim," Bones answers, using a tone of voice Jim feels is better suited for a five year-old. "In addition to feeling awfully grateful that this place stocks a decent first aid kit, I'm not pissed at you for getting punched. Now that knock-knock joke, on the other hand …"

Jim laughs, which turns out to be the wrong thing to do. He gets woozy and kinda-sorta leans against Bones for support. 

Turns out, Jim's not the only thing Bones is currently holding up. He's got a boner pressed nice and snug up against Jim's hip.

Jim realizes he's not thinking all that clearly, what with the probable concussion and all, but he's with it enough to know that popping wood at a time like this is not exactly status quo. Still, it's Bones, so Jim leans a little closer.

"Bones?"

Bones takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Yeah."

"Why are you hard?"

"Fucking hell, Jim," Bones says as he starts leading them toward the exit. He makes no more effort to answer Jim's question, but Jim knows he's hit a nerve because the pace Bones is setting for them is way too fast.

"Hey, slow down, will you? Guy with concussion here!"

Bones does slow down, but he doesn't apologize. Jim sneaks a hand downward and—yep! Bones is still hard.

"Oh, for the love of—Jim!" Bones pushes Jim's hand away.

Jim lets Bones guide him toward a waiting taxi.

"You don't have a concussion," Bones says a few steps away from their ride home. 

"But you do have—"

Bones stops short and Jim bounces right into him. "Hey," Bones says to the cab driver, "give us a minute." 

"What, are you crazy, Bones? He's gonna start the meter."

Bones pulls Jim over to lean against the wall. The hypospray is starting to wear off and Jim's energy level is dropping fast. His head hurts like a bitch. But the look on Bones' face is not one that Jim has ever wanted to argue with.

"I … like taking care of you," Bones says. He still has an arm around Jim's shoulder, but it feels like Bones is about a second away from pulling back. 

Jim waits. Nothing else seems forthcoming, so he leans in a little closer and says, "I know." 

"Fuck," Bones whispers. "No, I mean I _like_ taking care of you." 

Jim can honestly admit he has no fucking clue what Bones is talking about. The grip Bones has on his shoulder is starting to hurt almost as much as his head, and—oh. Wait a minute.

"Let me see if I have this straight," Jim says. "I get hurt. You get hard."

Bones flinches and tries to pull away, but Jim doesn't let him.

"Wait. Let's try this again. I get hurt. You get hard because you get to take care of me. You get to make it better."

Bones eases his grip on Jim's shoulder. "That about covers it, yeah."

"Okay. But you do realize I'm not going out of my way to feed your kink. I mean, maybe a few more nicks shaving, but that's about it." 

Bones stares at him like Jim has two heads. Which he might, going by the fact that he's feeling enough pain for possibly three heads. 

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Bones asks.

Jim shrugs. "If you really want to talk about it, can it wait until I don't feel like sliding down this wall and taking a nap right here on the concrete?" Jim keeps his tone gentle. Bones hasn't let go of him, but he's obviously freaked out by his admission. Jim really doesn't care what gets Bones off. Jim doesn't go out of his way to get hurt and, since the beginning, Bones has been trying his level best to keep Jim away from trouble.

"And if I don't want to talk about it?" Bones asks, slowly leading them back toward the taxi.

"Give me a day or two, then fuck me like you mean it."

Bones' laugh is unexpected. Jim is happy to hear it, though. Bones may be freaked out, but he's got hold of Jim and they're heading back to the dorms where Bones will make sure that Jim is okay. He helps Jim into the taxi, but he makes Jim buckle his own seatbelt. Jim knows how to get back at him for that.

"Knock knock."

"You have got to be kidding!" 

"Knock knock, Bones."

"Asshole. Who's there?"

"Anita."

"Anita who?"

"Anita dick inside me."

Bones gives the cab driver a very nice tip. 

 

**end**


End file.
